Funny Business
by RobinRedoe
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to the A-team tv-series. - The team is on a new mission in which trust and friendships are tested. Murdock has a problem that he tries to keep to himself. But what happens when it backfires? Will Murdock regain their trust?
1. Chapter 1 - Something is Brooding

Hello,

The story is currently under construction.  
That's what happens when you want to write so eagerly but haven't plotted the whole thing yet.  
Or actually, I did plot it, but did a bad job and got stuck, repeating myself over and over again.  
And who wants a boring story? I sure don't.

Sooooo, I hope to be updating soon. But it might take some time. But rest assured that there WILL be a story again at some point.  
I'm adding the chapters one by one again.  
In the meantime, maybe check out my other A-team stories and let me know what you think!

Cheers!  
Robin

-May 2019

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Something is Brooding**

It was early in the morning.

The sun was steadily climbing its way up the skyline of Los Angeles that was still coated with the typical West-coast marine layer. Outside, a cool breeze promised another nice and sunny Californian spring day.

All was calm at the V.A. Hospital… or at least it had been for the last past hour. Grateful for the peaceful moment, the orderlies and nurses quietly performed their morning routines. Some were preparing the medication trays and others were generally making sure that every patient was tended to.  
Not much had happened yet if you didn't count the random incident in the mess hall during breakfast when one of the veterans leaped onto a table and started acting like a chicken. After his third cock-a-doodle-doo and the pretense of having laid an egg (despite the fact that one could argue if a rooster was capable of doing that in the first place), the orderlies decided it was time to take the rioter back to his room. Fortunately for them, the patient didn't make much fuss (if you ignored the disgruntled clucks), and simply followed them into his private room without another squawk. A straightjacket didn't seem to be necessary this time.  
Soon after, everything was calm again and the rest of the morning carried on in an almost mundane fashion.

Yet… something was brooding.

* * *

Murdock sat on top of his cabinet with his legs dangling lazily over the edge. One foot, however, jumped nervously as he stared at his hands with a worried frown on his face. He flexed his long fingers repeatedly as if to make sure they were still obeying his commands. When that didn't seem to satisfy him, he gave his hands a wild shake before stretching and holding them at eye level.

"Bugger…" Murdock muttered as he let his arms fall to his side before jumping off the cabinet.

He adjusted his now lopsided cap with a thoughtful expression.

"What d'ya think, Pete?" The crazy pilot finally said. "Ya reckon it will stop soon?"

There was a small pause before a raspy answer filled the room.

"I guess it depends on the way you look at it..."

"Whaddayamean?" Murdock cocked his head at the speaker expectantly.

"Well, like good old Geoffrey Chaucer once said," the voice croaked, "All good things must come to an end".

Murdock shook his head at the disappointing answer.

"Oh come on! That's not even a _tiny_ bit helpful..." he said, sounding rather testy. "And I'm not sure if _'this_ '," he flapped his hands above his head as if trying to shake something off, "is actually a _good_ thing."

"Oh, but the end, in the end, is just a point in time in which things come to a halt," Pete said without even taking note of Murdock's brief interruption.

The pilot glanced irritably at the rude speaker.

"And every new beginning comes from other beginnings end*" Pete babbled on.

Murdock opened his mouth in an attempt to get a word in edgewise but suddenly found his roommate facing him with an intense glare.

"You're going to face a trial, Murdock," Pete said in a low voice. "And mark my words, it _'will'_ be the beginning of the end… Maybe _your_ end"

The last words were spoken with a slight menace, though the pilot chose to ignore it.

"Pete! If I wanted a philosophical point of view, I could've read Dr. Seuss instead!" he grumbled while unconsciously wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

He felt warm and had started to feel uncharacteristically grouchy.  
Pete let out a long and high-pitched cackle that made Murdock's neck hair stand on end.

"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple**…," he countered. "But I guess you're going to find out soon anyway. Like _REAL_ soon..."

Murdock rolled his eyes.

"And they call ME a nutjob…," he muttered, shrugging off the pesky feeling of foreboding while checking his watch.

"Uhoh...", he groaned as he noticed the time.

Soon couldn't come fast enough! Face was going to pick him up in less than ten minutes and it didn't look like he had time to handle any trials right now. Suddenly feeling very hot, Murdock stripped off his green-and-black plaid shirt. Hastily folding it into a ball, he knelt down beside his bed and reached for the pre-packed duffle bag underneath.  
The pilot heard a chuckle close by as his clumsy hands tried to open the bag.  
His long fingers were _'so'_ annoyingly uncoordinated that something as easy as pulling a zipper seemed like an enterprise on its own. But the pilot didn't let it get to him. He managed to open the bag with a cheerful whoop before finding out that his struggle wasn't over yet. While cramming his shirt inside, he pushed out some of the bag's other contents.  
The pilot helplessly watched his slinky, comic books, shaving supplies, and toothbrush running amok over the floor.

"Oh no! Come back here!" Murdock cried, seeing the latter cheekily disappear into the dark shadows of his bed.

The pilot heaved a frustrated sigh. Sitting on his knees, he quickly gathered his belongings and returned them to the bag. Then he lowered himself onto his stomach to reach under the bed. Wondering about the importance of owning a toothbrush in the first place, his hand reluctantly moved around the darkness in search of the pesky runaway. He was about to give up when he remembered his scary dentist visits and decided it was definitely worth preventing an increase of these mandatory appointments.  
A grin spread across his face as his clumsy hand finally closed around the thin plastic handle.

"Gotcha!" Murdock said while getting back up his knees. "Now don't do that again," he warned the object in his hands.

But his triumph didn't last long as he regarded the state of the thing.

"Ah hell...Dust bunnies...," Murdock moaned. "I fear I've never really acquired a taste for 'm..."

Pete snickered.

"It's a curious thing," he mused from his position on the pilot's bed. "How the dust of everyday's life is clinging to such a mundane cleaning device as a toothbrush."

"Owwww hush you!" Murdock said sharply while getting back to his feet.

Turning around, to face his visitor, he added: "You know, I thought you were gonna help me with my problem but so far you've been mighty useless."

"Well...," Pete replied, sounding rather indignant, "what did you expect from a talking parakeet, and an imaginary one at that…!?"

Murdock glared at the bird but said nothing. It was kinda hard to come up with a good comeback when your own imagination was making a valid point.  
With the toothbrush still clenched in his shaking hand, he made his way to the sink and rinsed it under a cool stream of water.  
So far, this promised to be an interesting day, and he wasn't sure whether he was looking forward to it or not. But there was no time to give it much thought because he really needed to start his performance about now.  
Putting the toothbrush in the back pocket of his pants, the lanky man climbed on top of his dresser again. Worries forgotten, he cleared his throat, flapped his arms, and for the second time that morning, started his well-rehearsed _cock-a-doodle-doo's._

TBC

* * *

* Seneca the younger - Roman philosopher  
** Of course, a quote from Dr. Seuss


	2. Chapter 2 - A great scam

Chapter 2 - A great scam

Face was in great spirits  
Dressed in a crisp white suit which was complemented with a pair of designer sunglasses, he sped over the freeway while listening to Blondie on the car radio. His next stop was the V.A hospital to spring out his crazy friend Murdock.  
The colonel had lined up another mission for them, and although Face still needed to hear all the details it sounded like it was going to be a relatively easy and nicely paid job for a change. The conman smiled inwardly. These were the jobs he liked doing best; Easy money, and, if possible, no extra dentist-, dry-cleaning-, or tailor bills.  
 _Perfect!_  
Whistling along with the tune of the song he turned his Vette into the parking area of the hospital. As he killed the engine, he took one last moment to go through the details of his next scam. If Murdock had followed his instructions to the point, it would be a simple matter of walking in and out of the place.  
While Face replaced his sunglasses with a pair of fake gold-rimmed ones, he carefully examined his surroundings. As always, he was on the look-out for anything suspicious that could quickly turn events into a disaster. Being wanted by the government, he could never be too careful. But for the moment, the coast seemed clear of any federales and/or other undesirable entities. Today was going to be a good day.

Minutes later, the conman entered the psychiatric ward of the hospital. He'd changed into a white doctor's coat, holding a clipboard under his arm and a briefcase in his hand. He'd even put on an antibacterial face mask for extra dramatic impact.  
Face suppressed a smile as he heard a distant clucking sound coming from one of the rooms down the hallway. Keeping his face straight, knowing his eyes could give him away even with the mask on, he turned to the nurse station and demonstratively placed his briefcase on the counter with a loud thud. The young red-haired nurse, who'd been engaged with her paperwork almost jumped from her chair. A little flustered, she looked up into the deep blue eyes of the man standing in front of her desk and gawked a little. Seeing he got her full attention, Face pulled down his facemask and sent the young woman one of his radiant 1000 Volt smiles while handing her his business card. The nurse took the card without breaking eye contact. Apparently, his charm and good looks were doing the trick already. Pleased with her reaction, Face didn't beat around the bush and jumped right into his act.

"Good morning. My name is Dr. Volaille," He said pleasantly. "I've been sent by the head of The Department of Mental Research and Bacterial Relations of the National Domestic Poultry Association and I'm here to collect one of your patients, a certain Mr...," Face pretended to check his clipboard. "H.M. Murdock."

Glancing around the empty hallway, the conman frowned and added: "So, where is Mr. Murdock? I thought he'd be ready to leave with me, but I don't see him. You do realize that time is of the essence?" He added.

The clucking and crowing sounds in the distance started to increase ever so slightly.

"I- I haven't heard of any releases today," the nurse stuttered, sounding taken aback.

"A moment, please. What department was it again?" she said while hurriedly checking her computer for more information.

"The Department of Mental Research and Bacterial Relations of the National Domestic Poultry Association," Face repeated effortlessly. (He'd been practicing.)

"Right," the nurse mumbled.

Not finding what she was looking for, she started rummaging through a pile of papers. Face tapped his fingers impatiently on her desk, making her pursuit for the right information more frantic. After some more attempts to find any proof of Murdock's discharge at all, she looked up with a worried expression on her face.

"I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid we didn't receive any releasing papers for Mr. Murdock. I can't let you take him unless I have a note from his treating psychiatrist, Dr. Richter."

Face grinned inwardly. This was his cue to add some drama.

"Well, that's highly inconvenient," he started, looking appalled. "And a tad bit sloppy too if I may add."

He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at the nurse with a stern expression on his face.

"I'm disappointed to see that this department doesn't have its paperwork in order when it's a case of life and death! I would've expected _more_ from the Los Angeles hospital of Veteran Affairs. I'm afraid I will have to inform my superiors about this."

To his satisfaction, Face noticed the widening eyes and the slightly reddening cheeks of the young nurse.

"B-But I don't understand," she stammered.

"You don't understand?" Face interrupted. "Are you aware that a group of patients from this department took on a field trip to the petting zoo last week?"

"Yes but,"

"And are you aware of the fact that one of your patients, Mr. H.M. Murdock himself, sneaked away and has been spending the rest of the day in the hen house used by the local poultry of the petting zoo?

"Yes but,"

"Then you must've heard that the chickens he has been interacting with were all infected with the Salmotalius Chicken Virus. Correct?

"Eh.. no, I don't thi…" the nurse began.

But Face was on a roll now.

"Has the patient been behaving differently than usual?"

"Well, yes, he thinks he's a chicken, but we didn't think much of it. It's not the first time he…"

"Great!" Face interrupted with a look of exasperation on his face

"That's just great," He emphasized his words while raising his hands dramatically. In the distance, an extensively loud cock-a-doodle-doo could be heard.

"It's a good thing I've shown up then. For _your_ sake, I hope I am not too late, nurse ehm.." he quickly checked her badge and continued: "Nurse Tremble."

"It seems I'm right in time to pick up this patient as I think he's already showing signs of the infection. We have to be fast because the bacteria is highly contagious and deadly when not treated in time."

The nurse covered her mouth with her hands at hearing this news.

"Has the patient been sharing any food with other patients lately?" Face asked her with a stern look in his eyes.

Suddenly looking horror-struck, the nurse nodded soundlessly. She knew he had.

"No worries," Face said with a suddenly suave voice while rummaging through his briefcase.

"I've got a copy of the release papers signed by Dr. Richter himself."

"T-Thank you," The nurse said, looking flabbergasted while taking the papers.

"All should be okay if you disinfect all the places Mr. Murdock has vacated. I think it would be a good idea to start with the cafeteria. Keep an eye on the patients. If any of them starts clucking, don't hesitate to use my business card and give me a call."

Face moved the mask over his nose again.

"Now would you be so kind as to escort me to my patient?"

Nurse Tremble nodded and quickly grabbed a set of keys.

"Follow me," she said, sounding rather anxious.

* * *

Moments later, Murdock sat on the passenger's seat of the Vette with a thankful grin on his face. Gosh, how he loved the cool breeze of the wind on his flushed cheeks after the suffocating heat of his room. Seeing the clear blue sky above his head while seated next to his biggest best buddy felt beyond liberating. Somehow, all his worries had gone with the wind and it felt like nothing could go wrong. In a moment of pure joy, the lanky man let out a loud crow.  
The white Corvette instantly swayed over the road provoking angry car-honking and shaking fists from the other drivers.

"ARGH Murdock!" Face cried, handling the steering wheel with whitened knuckles. "Don't do that!"

The blonde driver shot his friend a fierce look from behind his designer sunglasses.

"Do I need to remind you that we're done with the chicken-scam?"

Murdock sniggered.

"Why, I thought you liked chicks, Faceman," he said while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

The lanky pilot pulled up his knees and placed his feet on the dashboard.

"That's not the same," Face muttered while swatting Murdock's legs off the dash again.

"Come on, pall. Will you behave? I just got this babe cleaned…" Face patted his hand lovingly on his steering wheel.

Pausing at a red traffic sign, he turned around to face his friend.

"By the way, how have you been, buddy?" Face asked. "It's been a while."

Murdock's grin faltered a little.

"Oh, you know me," he said, cleverly dodging his friend's gaze while adjusting the brim of his baseball cap. "I'm five by five."

His body gave a painful shudder telling him the opposite.

"Glad to hear it," Face smiled, missing the sudden unease of his friend as the traffic light turned green again.

"...Did you just lie to your best friend?" a raspy voice coming from Murdock's shoulder whispered in his ear.

Murdock glanced sideways. Pete the Parakeet had perched himself comfortably on the pilot's shoulder while the wind ruffled his feathers.

"It's a white lie, and I didn't ask for your opinion," Murdock hissed softly from the corner of his mouth. He was already feeling a little guilty about his half-truth.

"What's that?" Face asked while accelerating the Vette to change lanes.

"Err, nothin'," Murdock answered quickly.

He heard Pete chuckle darkly.

"A single lie destroys a whole reputation of integrity*...," it croaked.

Murdock glared at his invisible philosophizing pet bird but said nothing.  
He would be fine, he just needed a little bit more time. Why kept the bird nitpicking on him like that? He decided to look away and pretend it wasn't there, which in reality, was quite true.

"So what's up with this new job," the pilot asked, trying to steer the conversation away from himself.

"Ah you're right, lemme get you up to speed," Face said while steering the Vette onto the freeway. "So, Hannibal and B.A are already at the warehouse to meet up with our potential client. I understand our job has something to do with a runaway kid in Arkansas. I don't know the finer details yet but I guess we'll find out when we get there. We'll probably need to do some sleuthing and find the kid to reunite it with his parents. Not much more."

"Hmhm," Murdock said, sounding distant. He hadn't really listened.

Face glanced sideways at his friend noticing his friend's flushed cheeks.

"You sure you're alright, Murdock? You seem a bit distracted,"

"W-What?" It was like Murdock startled out of a daydream. "Oh, Yeah, I'm fine, Face,"

He grinned innocently as he quickly slid his hands inside the front pockets of his leather jacket.  
Balancing to keep his attention both on the road and on his friend, Face gave the pilot a questioning glance which instantly prompted the latter in making up an excuse.

"It's nothing…! Really! I just didn't get a wink of sleep," the pilot stated quickly. "You see, someone gave Captain Spaulding a hot foot last night. He kept us all awake screaming bloody murder while trying to point out this indignity." Murdock sighed. "And then everybody started singing 'He's a very moral man… After that, it was bedlam..."

For a second, Face sent the pilot another scrutinizing stare, then, seemingly satisfied with the answer, he nodded. It wasn't the first time the pilot shared these kinds of crazy stories about his life at the V.A...  
Murdock, however, bit his lip, suddenly feeling overcome with shame. This wasn't a half-truth anymore. This was a plain lie, although someone 'had' given Captain Spaulding a hot foot some time ago. Just not last night.  
Before Face had interrupted his thoughts, the pilot had felt the trembling of his hands increase and desperately wondered what to do about it.

"Shame is nothing more than denial of the truth**...," the cruel voice of the bird hissed in his ears:

Ignoring the imaginary creature, Murdock pushed his discomfort aside again. Face would forgive him. It was just temporary. He was probably just having some sort of side-effects from his meds, that's all. It would wear off eventually. Surely, he didn't need to alert the guys with this little nuisance? When did crying wolf ever pay off? Besides, the team would probably have their hands full with this new job if it came through. All would be fine. He just needed some more time.

Or so he kept telling himself...

TBC

* * *

* Quote from Baltasar Gracian - Spanish philosopher

** unknown


	3. Chapter 3 - The client

To those of you who were interested in the story: I'm really sorry for leaving you hanging for so long.  
To new readers: I hope you'll enjoy the story.  
I will be posting new chapters in the coming weeks.

* * *

Chapter 3 - The Client

Face and Murdock soon arrived at the address that the colonel had provided them with. Looking around, the conman wrinkled his nose as he steered into an alley of a somewhat unsavory neighborhood of Los Angeles. He bit his lip in worry while trying to remember the current rate of car theft in this particular district. This was _not_ a place where he'd fancied parking his precious Vette! But fortunately, Murdock pointed out a deserted space behind a wall where he could park his car out of view. This was, despite circumstances, perfect.  
Going through his usual routine, Face killed the engine, stepped out, and opened his mouth to tell his friend off for leaping out of the car without using the door. But, as he turned his head, he noticed to his surprise that Murdock hadn't done any leaping of any kind at all. In fact, the lanky man had used the passenger's door the way it was supposed to without any kind of jumping business. Now that was new.  
Looking silly and slightly slack-jawed, Face couldn't remember the last time Murdock actually 'used' that door and a smile formed on his lips. Maybe his friend had finally started listening to his many, _MANY_ pleas.

Oblivious to Face's glee, Murdock stood with his back to the conman with his hands digging deep in his pants pockets while screening the place.

"Whereto, oh Faceman?" He asked with a badly concealed sigh.

Face, who was giving his tie a quick fix in the car's side mirror, looked up at the pilot.

Was it his imagination or did Murdock sound a bit tired?

"It's this way," he said pointing at one of the doors in the alley while giving his friend an examining glance.

The pilot who caught his eyes quickly composed his face into a reassuring grin.

"Great! The last one there is a Banana slug!" he cried while speeding toward the door.

"A wha..? Hey! Wait for me!" Face spluttered in surprise as he rushed after his friend.

At seeing his friends' grin again, the dab of concern instantly vanished and the conman figured he'd simply imagined it.

A moment later, in an abandoned basement of some shabby rental, the two men found themselves reunited with the rest of the team. Both B.A and Hannibal nodded at their teammates as they entered the space.  
Face only _just_ caught himself from displaying another look of disgust as he regarded his gloomy surroundings. The murky space was filled with cobwebs, broken furniture, and rotting cardboard boxes. Scraps of moldy wallpaper curled from the moist walls, and the bare floor was covered in a thick layer of dirt and dust. It seemed nobody had entered this place for over a decade, except maybe the colonel to check it out before using it as their meet-up place. There was a distinct damp smell of decaying wood and other things he didn't really want to think about.

"Sheesh...Hannibal, you sure know how to pick them..." Face thought silently.

He figured this was the last test to challenge the willingness of their new client. The conman's sharp eyes fell on a man and a woman standing nervously in the middle of the room. The wealthy-looking couple looked very much out of place amongst the piled-up amount of mugginess and neglect.  
Taking their usual positions (in case they had to bolt unexpectedly), Hannibal, stepped forward to introduce the team to Mr. and Miss Gilbert. Waiting for his moment to shake hands, Face knew this was his cue to screen their client one last time. He knew that Hannibal already made them jump through several hoops before he'd even considered this meeting. But a fugitive man could never be too careful. This would be the final judgment before taking on the actual job, and Face would be the final judge.  
Despite circumstances, the couple looked rather well-poised, both dressed in expensive designer clothing and matching jewelry. Face glanced appreciatively at the man's golden Rolex before his eyes shifted to the leather suitcase which he guessed contained their advance fee.  
Miss Gilbert, standing next to her husband, looked both elegant and calm. But the subtle tapping of her manicured fingernails on her purse told Face a different story. She was nervous and probably not as self-assured as she wanted them to think. The same could be said for her husband. To the conman, it was quite obvious that the couple wasn't used to/nor comfortable with this kind of environment. Nevertheless, they seemed determined and desperate enough to meet up with the team.  
Starting to get rather impatient, Mr. Gilbert stepped forward.

"So…! After two weeks of being sent from pillar to post, we finally meet the A-team," he said with a hint of exasperation.

Face's keen eyes narrowed slightly at his words. Mrs. Gilbert worriedly looked up at her husband. She reached out to grab his hand and gave it a quick but gentle squeeze; a seemingly small gesture to some people, but not to the conman. Apparently, Gilbert understood his wife's subtle message and let out a long sigh. As he spoke again, his tone of voice had changed.

"It's just that we're desperate." he continued, sounding a little calmer this time. We really need your help, Smith," he went on. "Because if you don't, nobody else will..."

Face knew enough. He looked over at the colonel and gave him their agreed signal. They could continue.

* * *

Hannibal saw Face's sign and gave the lieutenant a subtle nod before focusing on their client again. Ignoring Mr. Gilbert's hint of annoyance, he got straight to the point.

"Mr. Lee told me that you're looking for your kid. Why don't you tell us more about him?"

"It's our boy, Sam," Mrs. Gilbert answered before her husband could reply. "We've been trying to contact him but something is terribly wrong…"

"Wrong? How come?" Hannibal wanted to know.

"Since last August, he enrolled in this well-known boarding school in Arkansas; the Rocky Othenius School," Mr. Gilbert explained.

"Arkansas?" Hannibal said, raising his eyebrows slightly. "We're in California. Why send your boy all the way to another state?"

"This boarding school is high in demand," Mr. Gilbert explained. "They have excellent credentials and they don't just let anybody in. They're known for choosing the cream of the crop; gifted kids that have already achieved many accomplishments during their short lifetime. Most kids that go to that school end up becoming scientists, astronauts, or tycoons."

"Sam is a _very_ gifted kid you know," Mrs. Gilbert added, unable to hide the pride from her voice. "Only straight A's all his childhood. And especially talented within the field of mathematics. He started attending university-level mathematics courses at the age of 9!"

Face shifted on his feet as B.A whistled softly under his breath, both looking rather impressed with this information.

"The first two months", Gilbert went on, "Sam called and wrote to us every week. He was really enjoying the extra attention they give him at this school. But suddenly, he stopped calling. And after some time, his letters became more and more sporadic, and… weird,"

"Weird?" Hannibal repeated with a glance at Murdock, half expecting him to jump up and make one of his crazy remarks. But the pilot stayed unusually quiet.

"Yes, weird," Gilbert sighed. "There's no other word for it, really,". The man looked at his wife for help.

"He kept making typographical errors in his letters," Mrs. Gilbert clarified. "And he was writing about things and events that had never happened. He even mentioned an uncle and aunt that don't even exist!"

"That's when we started to suspect something was going on," Mr. Gilbert continued. "Like Sam was trying to tell us something but couldn't say it directly.  
We tried calling him but couldn't get him on the phone. We tried connecting with the head of the school but they told us that Sam was either in class, following a workshop, or away on an excursion when we called. We never managed to get him on the phone. We got really worried when we got a note that he wasn't going to come home for the holidays. Sam _loves_ Christmas with his family. He wouldn't just skip that. But the school told us he'd decided to stay and join a special course over the holidays for extra points. Of course, we never actually heard it from his own lips...,"

"Why didn't you visit him in Arkansas?" B.A's low voice suddenly rumbled through the basement, making the couple jump in fright.

The muscular man had been standing quietly in the shadows while following the conversation with a growing scowl and folded arms.  
After recovering from their first shock regarding his eccentric and rather intimidating appearance, the Gilberts had kinda forgotten about him.

"O-of course we did!" Mr. Gilbert stuttered, trying to pick up his storyline again. "We traveled all the way to Arkansas to see him. But they didn't let us in. The school keeps very strict visiting rules. No parents are allowed on the school grounds during trimesters. We tried negotiating, but there was no way they were going to bend the rules for us."

"What about the authorities," Face asked, already guessing the answer. "Sure the police could help?"

"They didn't take us seriously," Mrs. Gilbert said while small tears were welling up in the corners of her eyes. "They said they called the school and heard that Sam didn't want to contact us any more. Then they labeled him as a rebel teenager who didn't feel like calling or visiting his mummy and daddy. But we know him! That's not our Sam. Something's going on!"

"It sure sounds fishy," Hannibal nodded. "You know we're not cheap, Mr. Gilbert. It's probably going to take us a couple of days to figure out what's going on.. and,"

"Money is no issue," Gilbert interrupted him quickly. "I own a billion-dollar company and have money to spend. I'm gonna be straight with you, Smith. We're desperate and we just want our Sam to come home."

Hannibal looked over at his lieutenant. "Give him an estimate, Face."

Face, as always well-prepared, was already on the job, rapidly jotting down the numbers on a notepad he'd carried around in his jacket pocket. He cleared his throat.

"Well," he said, reading from his notepad while tapping the back of the pen against his chin, "Together with our prerequisites, per diems, travel costs, and light armaments, the total sum would be $50.000 Dollars.

"No problem," Mr. Gilbert said firmly while placing the suitcase he'd been holding on a dusty creaky table.

As the man opened it, Hannibal instinctively moved his hand to the weapon he'd been hiding behind the back of his belt out of precaution. But he relaxed again at seeing the contents of the case which was carrying small piles of 100 dollar bills.

"I think this ought to cover it," Mr. Gilbert said, looking somewhat abashed.

Face glanced down, his eyes shimmering. He could already tell that this was more than the fee they were originally asking for.

"You can keep the change," Mr. Gilbert added."Just get us our boy back."

Straightening his back, Hannibal stepped forward with an outstretched hand.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert," He said with a wide grin while shaking their hands. "You just hired the A-team."


	4. Chapter 4 - Afraid to Fly

Chapter 4 - Afraid to Fly

"Fool, you comin'?"

The gruff voice of B.A instantly broke Murdock's trance. He blinked and looked around in slight confusion. Oops, when did the meeting end? Everybody had already left the room.  
Then he noticed the big guy standing at the doorway of the basement with a questioning frown. The pilot quickly composed himself.

"Comin' honey," he jested while striding through the room.

"Who you callin' honey?" B.A barked.

He turned around irritably, muttering "crazy fool" under his breath and left.  
Grinning a little, the pilot quickly followed his grumpy teammate. While climbing the stairs, however, his smile faded as he noticed how stiff and heavy his limbs felt. He silently scolded himself for being so out of shape even though deep inside, he knew that wasn't exactly the case. Then his thoughts drifted off to their previous meeting.  
Somehow, it had been really hard to focus on the conversation with Pete throwing all kinds of remarks at him. He realized that he didn't pick up all the details. Where were they going again? Hopefully, Face could fill him in.

Stepping outside into the bright sunlight, Murdock pulled down the brim of his hat. He felt the beginnings of a bad headache coming up, and the brightness of the light wasn't exactly helping. Squinting a little, he saw Face and B.A walk to the van. Seeing that he got behind, he made a quick dash to catch up.  
As Face opened the sliding door of the black GMC, Murdock quickly hopped inside and slipped into his customary chair right behind the driver's seat. The light wasn't so harsh inside and Murdock was silently thankful for that.  
B.A, per usual, took place behind the wheel while Face decided to vacate the front passenger's seat until Hannibal joined them.

"So, what do you think guys?" Face beamed at his teammates while pivoting on the swivel chair to face his teammates. "It looks like we're gonna get paid plenty for a change, huh? And the only thing we have to do is find out where that kid is and why he didn't contact his parents,"

He entwined his fingers and placed his hands behind his head with a satisfied smile on his handsome features.

"Ahhh," he sighed contently while leaning back in his seat, "I can think of a couple of nice things that I'd like to do with my share of the money. What about you guys?"

B.A gave him an uncertain look.

"You shouldn' count yo' chickens yet, Faceman," he said gruffly. "The kid may be hard to find, man."

Face waved the argument away and shrugged. "I bet it's just a young teenage boy who's rebelling against his parents for being sent to a far-away boarding school like he means nothing to them. We'll find him alright."

B.A shook his head disapprovingly. He had his reservations about the case. After all, he'd had more experience with rebellious children than any of his team members had. And something in his gut told him this kid wasn't one of them. If you had to believe his parents, they'd been very close before his move to the boarding school. The photos they shared presented a happy child and, most importantly of all, a happy childhood. No kid could fake a smile like that. B.A thought he knew the difference.

"What about you, H.M," Face suddenly said while turning his chair to face the pilot who'd been quietly staring at his hands in his lap.

Murdock looked up, looking startled for a sec. To his embarrassment, he had no clue what the conversation was about.

"Eh yeah, sure," he quickly answered while nodding vigorously. "I totally agree."

Unfortunately for him, his somewhat eluded answer and his facial expression didn't fool the conman. He'd been a tad bit too slow to hide it.

"You okay buddy?" Face asked again, looking a bit worried.

"Of course I am!" Murdock fake-smiled, folding his arms over his chest to hide his trembling hands. "Why do you keep asking me that? I'm right as rain, muchacho."

Face frowned, and even B.A turned his head curiously. The pilot felt himself shrink under his friends' sudden scrutiny.

"You look a bit hot," Face said while sending his friend an examining look.

"Well, thank you," Murdock grinned a little more genuinely this time.

He batted his lashes. "You're not so bad yourself."

With a grunt and an eye roll, B.A promptly turned around again to stare out of the van's windscreen instead.

"Crazy man...," he grumbled with a shake of his head while leaning on his steering wheel with his muscular arms.

But Face still regarded his friend with a questioning look. Murdock sat up straighter and tried looking around B.A's shoulder, pretending to search for Hannibal.

"What's keepin' the colonel?" he inquired while trying to divert the unwanted attention to a safer subject.

Face carefully cast a sideways glance at B.A before answering.

"He's acquiring some more... er...information from the client."

"And he just returned," a familiar voice sounded from outside the van.

Just then, the colonel popped up at B.A's open window and leaned in on his elbows, carrying a big grin on his face.

"Heya guys!" he greeted.

"Speaking about the devil..," Face remarked dryly while sending his commander a taunting smile.

"As always at your service," Hannibal grinned back at him.

Murdock sighed in relief, thankful for the diversion.

"Whassup?" B.A grunted, not sure if he liked the colonel hanging on his precious van's window frame like that.

"Well," Hannibal began with a twinkle in his eyes, "I've got some good news and some bad."

He looked at his team expectantly. Peck sighed, knowing that one of them had to ask first before getting the information.

"Okay, I'll bite. What's the good news?"

Hannibal's smile widened at this question.

"The good news is that the client is not only paying our complete fee but is also insisting on paying for our accommodation and extra expenses. They already paid us a sum upfront in actual cash." the colonel said while showing them the briefcase Mr. Gilbert had been carrying earlier.

This time it was Face's smile that widened.

"And the bad news?" Baracus asked gruffly while eyeing the colonel with much-needed caution. At this point, seeing they were about to go on a new adventure, he wasn't sure if he could trust the man.

"The bad news is that I promised the client that we'll start tomorrow," Hannibal said, dropping the bomb.

B.A's eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Ah man! How can you promise something like that!" he burst out.

"Yeah Hannibal. Are you mad?" Face chimed in while frowning at their COL. "Driving from here to Arkansas will take us at least two days! Unless you want us to go faster than light, I'd say that's humanly impossible...And may I dare to add, insane? Am I right B.A?"

He gave B.A an understanding pat on the shoulder to assure his friend he got his back. B.A, however, looked around at him with a distrustful glare. But dropping his guard had been a mistake. Cleverly making use of the distraction, Hannibal made his pre-calculated move.

"Who said we were driving?" He quipped while expertly injecting his sergeant with a sedative.

B.A's eyes widened as he realized the meaning of those words and the meaning of the tiny pinprick in his neck.

"Hannibal, I AIN'T FLY…" He whirled around to grab the colonel around the throat but knew it was already too late.

The chemicals of the tranquilizer spread rapidly through his veins. Before he could protest, his eyelids drooped and his whole body went limp.

 _BEEEEEEEEP!_

"Heh, On the horn again," Hannibal chuckled triumphantly. "You owe me 20 bucks, Face."

"Ah Hannibal, that doesn't count. I saw you nudging him over!" the conman protested as he lifted B.A's unconscious face from the steering wheel to stop the noise.

"Now now, Templeton, would I 'ever' do such a thing?" Hannibal said, feigning his innocence with flair.

He carefully capped the syringe and put it away before producing a cigar from his pockets which he clenched between his teeth showing a raher toothy grin.

"A deal is a deal, kid. Cough up!" he said while holding out his open gloved hand through the driver's window right under B.A's sleeping face.

Face glared sourly at his commander as he reached for his wallet and dug up a twenty-dollar bill.

"Don't you just love it," Hannibal grinned as he pocketed his winnings.

"Not really..." Face scowled. "Well, I guess I don't need it anyway, now we're suddenly rich and all..."

Putting his wallet away he continued: "So what's up Hannibal. Am I about to charter us another plane for our journey?"

Murdock, who'd been awfully quiet this whole time, looked up with a tinge of worry in his eyes.  
A plane? Were they flying? Whereto again?  
The bird had been talking again, distracting him from the conversation. A little feeling of panic started to bubble inside his stomach. He didn't want to let his friends down but for the first time in ages, he wasn't sure if he was lucid enough to take them on a long trip. He had to keep an eye on all the gauges and gears and whatnot with that bird distracting him all the time. His head suddenly felt painful and fuzzy as he heard a nasty sounding voice chuckle and whisper in his ear.

 _"The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it." *_

Murdock stiffened…

"Nope, you can take it easy, Face," Hannibal said brightly, completely missing Murdock's panic-stricken face as he was still talking through the open window of the van.

"The client prepared a private jet with a pilot for us. We're just gonna sit back and relax. We'll rest up and make some preparations on our way there."

"Wow…" Face sighed. "I think we might've hit the jackpot this time, Hannibal."

"We might've," Hannibal agreed.

Then he opened the door to lift the sleeping sergeant from the driver's seat and move him to the back of the vehicle with the help of his lieutenant. Nobody noticed the utter relief playing on Murdock's face as he opened the van's back doors for his teammates to lower B.A onto the carpet floor of his van.

* * *

TBC

* * *

* Quote from the novel Peter Pan


	5. Chapter 5 - Counting lies

Chapter 5 - Counting lies

* * *

Half an hour later, the team found themselves high up in the air on their way to Arkansas. Since entering the plane, Hannibal had wandered around with a look of satisfaction on his face. The jet plane turned out to be both luxurious and comfortable. Apparently, Gilberts used it for their business meetings as it was completely furnished and divided into several units, including an office that was situated at the front of the plane. Face seemed elated too, especially when he discovered one of the mini-fridges containing wine and caviar. The colonel looked amused as he remarked the conman's unmistakable delight. If it were up to the lieutenant, all jobs would be like this from now on.

"Any chance we'll be drinking on the job?" Face asked, throwing his commander a hopeful grin.

"I don't think so, lieutenant," Hannibal frowned at him, though clearly suppressing a smirk.

"Drat," Face sighed, closing the fridge with a wistful expression on his features. "Oh well. I guess it was worth a try."

The colonel chuckled and turned around while waving a small briefcase in his lieutenants' face.

"Come on, lieutenant," he said while pointing at the office room. "We've got some digging to do,"

Entering the room, the colonel looked around approvingly. Noticing the oval-shaped table with six matching chairs, he settled down at the head and opened the briefcase that Mr. Gilbert had given him before their departure. It contained articles and contact information about the school plus some photos and characteristics of their missing kid. A smart move on the Gilberts' behalf, Hannibal had to admit. It saved them a lot of time. He spread a few of the case's contents on the table, picked up a sheet of paper that looked interesting, and started reading.  
Following his commander's example, Face sat down next to Hannibal and selected a few documents himself.  
It was a few minutes later when Murdock joined the duo. Glancing around, he passed the oval table and grabbed a booklet from the pile of papers, 'A guide through the Rocky Orthenius School'. Then he strolled to the very end of the room and sat down opposite his teammates. Hannibal looked up with a frown.

"Everything alright with our sleeping beauty, Captain?"

Murdock looked up with a small grin.

"Snorin' like a kitten wrapped in a ball of string, col 'nel," he drawled. "This ain't my first rodeo, you know."

"Noted," Hannibal smirked before concentrating on his documents again.

Murdock exhaled silently and opened the booklet on his lap while absentmindedly rubbing his forehead. He hoped he'd done a good job. After drawing the shortest straw, he'd had the questionable honor to strap B.A safely into one of the more comfy-looking lounge chairs that were situated in the very VERY back of the jet. The pilot had good reasons for positioning the sergeant there. B.A seemed to be developing a slight tolerance to the sedative they'd been using to trick him onto airplanes and helicopters, and he figured that their chances of surviving would be slightly better in case their muscular giant decided to wake up prematurely.

"Better safe than sorry…" he smiled wryly while glancing at his trembling hands.

Initially, he'd been having a little trouble strapping the man down with his unruly fingers, but in the end, it all worked out. Staring at the page that contained information about the school's premises, he tried to get some reading done. However, after a few minutes, he still hadn't turned a page. Murdock blinked hard in frustration. It was so hard to focus with that annoying headache going on. The harder he tried, the hotter and more agitated he became. He could hear Face and Hannibal sharing an occasional remark while reading their files, but the pilot had nothing to add but silence. After re-reading the same sentence for the umpteenth time, he heaved a frustrated sigh and rubbed his eyes.

"Having trouble?" a rather amused voice sounded close to his ear.

The pilot pursed his lips as he tried his best to disregard the annoying hallucination that sat perched on his shoulder.

"You've done a hell of a job ignoring me so far," Pete mocked with gleaming eyes. "But did nobody tell you it's rude to ignore someone who's talking to you? EVEN when they're imaginary?"

The pilot frowned and shut his eyes in annoyance.

"Or are you perhaps deaf?" Pete wondered.

"Sssshh!" Murdock shushed.

Face looked up at the sound.

"You doing okay there, buddy?" he said, looking over at the pilot, wondering why he'd distanced himself.

"I'm fine," Murdock smiled, quickly turning a page of his brochure while conveniently hiding his eyes under the brim of his baseball cap.

If he pretended to be reading, Face may leave him alone.

"One," The invisible parakeet suddenly said.

"What's that?" Murdock whispered as silently as he could.

"One," Pete repeated. "I've started counting…"

"Count what?" Murdock hissed behind ground teeth.

He was starting to lose his temper with the bird.

"Who are you talking to?" Face asked before Pete could answer.

Murdock looked up as if caught in the act.

"Oh, did you bring your invisible dog along?" Face added with a smirk. "Let me know where he is so I don't step on him."

"No, Billy's not here," Murdock said, sounding distracted while avoiding his friend's eyes again. "I left him at the V.A with Colonel Rumball. He has the better dog biscuits."

The pilot bowed over his brochure again, trying his best to concentrate on the words.

"Two," A slightly amused voice hissed into his ear.

There was a short loaded silence in which Murdock visibly stiffened. He squinted his eyes lightly as he glanced at the bird.

"Murdock," Face sounded concerned. "If something is going on, you know you can tell me right? Are you still tired?"

Hannibal looked up from his files too and gave the captain a scrutinizing look.

Murdock looked up again, feigning a wide grin at his friends. "Whaddayamean? I'm fine! Fit as an armadillo in May." he lied again, wondering how many times he had to say it before they stopped bugging him.

"I've just been talkin' to silly ol' me. I can be a very entertaining guy, you know."

"Three..,"

Murdock's shoulders hunched a little at this.

"You don't look fine," Hannibal pointed out while examining the pilot's flushed cheeks and pale complexion. The pilot clearly wasn't his usual zany self.

Not enjoying the current spotlight very much, Murdock shifted uncomfortably in his chair. A light sheen of sweat had appeared on his forehead and pointy nose, and he wished they could just direct their scrutiny back to their paperwork where it belonged.

"Look," Murdock began while starting to sound a little testy, "It's nothing, guys. Just a case of air sickness, that's all,"

"Four," Pete giggled softly.

"YOU get sick on a plane?" Hannibal chuckled. "That's new."

"Well, I do!" Murdock said defensively while avoiding direct eye contact and licking his lips. It was a telltale that the words coming from his mouth next weren't exactly going to be truthful, and the guys knew it.

"That's what happens when you don't handle the yoke yourself..." Murdock said, forcing a nervous smile on his face again while getting up from his chair.

"It's just like drivin' cars, ya know. Some people get real sick when they tag along in the passenger's seat instead of being the one behind the wheel."

Murdock shrugged his shoulders again, holding up the palms of his hands.

"I get sick when I'm not flying myself. Same difference."

He started to feel very awkward about his not very plausible excuse. To his dismay, he noticed his friends both raised their eyebrows at him and he quickly hid his hands in his pockets again.

"Oh boy… Five and a half," he heard Pete chuckle. "That was a big one!"

Suddenly feeling giddy, Murdock stumbled and almost lost his footing.

Face was about to get up, but the pilot grinned at him while stabilizing himself using the back of his chair.

"Whoohoo!" he whooped. "Boy, did you feel that? I guess we're experiencing some turbulence!"

"Six!" an evil voice sounded.

Grin fading, Murdock quickly walked toward the exit door.

"I'm thirsty! 'You thirsty?" he rattled while leaving the room in a hurry. "There's soda in the back. I'm gettin' us some drinks. Back in a jiffy!"

Oblivious to his teammates' exchanged glances of bewilderment, Murdock made his way to the back of the jet where he knew was a small cocktail bar and a fridge filled with yummies and cool drinks. But instead of getting them their refreshments, a sudden thought occurred to him. As he passed the bar and the sleeping B.A who stirred lightly in his slumber, he hastened toward the storage area that held their luggage. It was situated at the very back of the plane next to the bathroom. The guys wouldn't be able to hear nor see him here, which was perfect because he was in desperate need of some privacy…

and his meds...

Not able to contain himself any longer, Murdock started running. Finding the unit holding his duffel bag, he forcefully dragged it from the shelf and dropped it onto the floor. Zipping it open with wildly shaking hands, he started rummaging through its contents with feverish speed. Maybe, just maybe, he still had some of 'it' left from a previous trip? There was a chance he hadn't completely used that bottle. Where was it! Getting tenser with every ticking second, the lanky man threw out his slinky and yoyo, followed closely by his comic books, night light, and rolled-up socks that found themselves airborne in quick succession. Next were his spare clothes, his toiletries, and that stupid, STUPID toothbrush which found its way back to the floor for the second time that day. When the bag was empty, the pilot held it upside down and shook it hard, hoping that the item he was looking for would magically fall out. But nothing came out... Nothing at all.

"It's not here," Pete nagged as Murdock moaned in frustration. "You'll have to do without…And the main question is; Can you handle it?"

As Murdock glanced sideways at the bird, he had the sickening feeling it had grown a couple of inches. He was sure it weighed more heavily on his shoulder than it did before! Its mean little eyes stared back at him carrying a gleeful twinkle, and its sharp claws seemed to dig into his flesh. Murdock usually adored parakeets. But not this one. This one wasn't cute in soft hues of greens, blues, or yellows. This one was dark and greyish with black accents and bright red eyes, and it was starting to creep him out a little.

"Shut it," Murdock muttered through gritted teeth.

Feeling a painful shudder running down his spine, he closed his eyes while sinking down to his knees amongst the contents of his duffel bag. Placing his hands on his thighs, he breathed hard while trying to focus on his problem.  
This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. How could he face the guys when he was like this? Murdock's grip on his legs intensified as he tried to control the trembling of his limbs. His whole body shook out of frustration and he suddenly felt sick and hot. The fruitless search through his bag had only intensified his agony. He had to clean up the mess. The pilot stood up, swaying on his legs. Then, without a warning, he felt bile rise in the back of his throat. Only just in time, he ran into the bathroom and let it all out. Hanging over the sink, he threw up the meager contents of his stomach which had only contained a half-finished breakfast from earlier that morning.

"This," he muttered, hanging over the sink looking miserable, "wasn't part of the plan."

"Bravo," Pete chortled while weighing heavily on Murdock's shoulder. "Attaboy!"

Ignoring the bird, Murdock turned on the tap to rinse his mouth and clean his face. The cool liquid felt good on his hot cheeks. Then, with a hint of shame, he quickly washed out the basin and cleared it off the last traces of vomit. As he finished the job, Murdock sighed and turned around. He really needed to clean up the mess in the luggage compartment too. When stepping into the hallway however, he froze as he suddenly stood face to face with an angry-looking Faceman. His friends' expression revealed an alarming mixture of both worry and disappointment as he stared at his teammate with folded arms.

"Uhoh..." was all that Murdock could mumble.

"Looks like you're in trouble,mate..." The menace on his shoulder whispered in his ear.

* * *

TBC


	6. Chapter 6 - What about the truth?

Chapter 6: What about the truth?

* * *

The atmosphere had almost become palpable as both men stood facing each other without saying a word. At their feet all Murdock's belongings lay spread over the floor. The conman glanced at the mess, then back at Murdock who stood there wide-eyed, looking horrified as if he'd been caught in the act. But of what? It was time to break the awkward silence.

"So...," Face spoke sharply, unable to keep a hint of irritation from his voice. "When were you going to tell us what's wrong with you?"

Knowing what was coming, Murdock straightened his back while racking his brain for a quick and plausible explanation of his mess.

But all he could think of was: "I'm fine, Faceman, just tired".

Words he immediately regretted as it was clear from the eye roll of his friend that he'd used them one time too many now.

"I.. um...it's just a headache. I was just searchin' for some Aspirin." the pilot quickly added with a gesture at the mess.

"Seven," came an eerie whisper from his shoulder.

The _damn_ bird was still counting!  
Trying to ignore it, while regarding the exasperated look on his friend's face, Murdock tried one last approach.

"Maybe I'm just coming down with something...?" He said with a shrug.

He bit his lip, realizing his words sounded more like a question than an explanation this time.

"EIGHT!" Pete roared from laughter. "EIGHT filthy lies already!"

Something finally snapped in Murdock.

"STOP COUNTING!" he bellowed at his shoulder while tears started welling in the corners of his eyes.

As he heard the bird's high-pitched cackles, all at once the walls of the plane started to wobble dangerously. Face was only just in time to catch his friend from toppling onto the floor.

"...'s nothin' Faceman. J-Just a-another bumpy cumulus cloud..." Murdock breathed hard while squeezing his eyes shut for a second. "Nasty little buggers they can be..."

"Yeah right," Face scowled trying to keep his friend vertical. "And I'm the President of the United States,"

The pilot opened one questioning eye at his teammate. "You are?" he asked without thinking.

"No, of course not, Murdock!" Peck frowned sounding both annoyed and worried as he noticed his friend's pale and clammy face.

"I'm sure you could be," Murdock shrugged sounding a bit distant.

"Enough of this!" Face said while hoisting the pilot's arm around his shoulder and leading him resolutely into the bathroom.

He quickly turned on the tap and pushed the pilot's wrists under the clattering stream of water to cool him down. Murdock exhaled deeply as the cold water revived some of his senses. Silently, he thanked the tap for its second rescue while trying to ignore the sniggering bird sitting on top of it.

"Murdock, I...," Face said while resting a hand on the pilot's shoulder. But his words died away as he suddenly noticed the tremors running through his friend's back.

The conman frowned and looked at Murdock with a look of concern and bewilderment playing on his features. But the pilot had resolutely turned away from him, staring unseeingly at the water stream with a look of shame in his eyes.

"Murdock, you need to talk to me," Face said, his voice more concerned now.

"Tell me what's going on. This isn't the flu, or airsickness, or turbulence. Come on, how thick do you think I am? And what was that about the counting? Who's counting?"

Murdock frowned at the bird who looked back at him with its red gleaming eyes.

"Don't mention me," it warned him while flying back to his shoulder and perching itself there with sharp claws. "They'll throw you out of the team if you do!"

This startled the pilot. That couldn't be true, could it? The creature was just messing with his mind. But what if it was right?  
What should he do? He couldn't lie to Face about this. Hell! He just saw his own clammy face staring back at him from the mirror with red-rimmed eyes. There was no way he could hide it anymore. Turning off the water tap, he turned around while shakily leaning against the sink cabinet for support. It was uncanny to the pilot how his eyes kept refusing to meet his friend's.

"Well?" Face insisted, starting to get impatient.

Murdock shifted nervously, wondering if spoken words were actually capable of taking detours in the back of one's throat because he had the feeling that was exactly what they were doing right now. His hands hidden in his pockets again the pilot stared down at the tips of his worn-down shoes trying to find a way out of this situation.

"Be careful what to tell him..." the taunting bird on his shoulder hissed.

Feeling feverish, Murdock opened his mouth.

"I'm going through some sort of withdrawal," he said slowly. His own voice sounding odd to him.

There was a brief silence in which it was clear that Face hadn't expected this answer.

"Withdrawal?" he finally spoke. "From what?"

For a moment, the conman looked at his friend in bewilderment. But then it dawned on him.

"Your meds?" he asked, sounding bewildered. "Did you stop taking them? But why would you..."

"I know, I know!" Murdock interrupted his friend while shamefully bowing his head. "My timing sucks and if I could jump back in time, I would. But the job came in unannounced and we had to improvise this morning, remember? If Hannibal had given us a heads up in advance, I would've never..." His voice trailed off.

"But why, Murdock?" Face wondered out loud, not sure if he understood. "I thought you needed these meds?"

"No, I don't" Murdock shook his head quickly. "Or..well... yes I do, but I don't need them all. And surely not this new experimental crap they've been trying to force-feed me at the V.A."

Seeing the questioning look on Peck's face, he explained:

"It was Dr. Richter who put me on a new brand of anxiety pills because the old stuff stopped production or somethin',"

The pilot sighed.

"I had to try it because well... as you know, I sometimes 'do' need them, and I'd run through my stack of old pills a while ago..."

Shifting his position a little, the pilot paused and rubbed his tired eyes to gather his thoughts. The headache and the warning whispers of the bird weren't exactly helping much. Face waited patiently in silence.

"I knew it was kryptonite the moment I took them," Murdock spoke again, wrapping his lank arms protectively around his chest while glancing at the bird. "They made me grouchy and very very sluggish,"

His voice hardened and the pilot looked at his friend for the first time.

"Richter insisted I gave them a chance, so I tried them for a while. But I was slow Face, and you know I can't be slow.  
You guys need me sharp as a needle. I need to be able to go Hong Kong Phooey on the bad guys and fly the whirlybirds to catch the Yankee Doodle Pigeon. I can't be waverin' and snailin' around like a heavy-eyed slug on a kick scooter... And I certainly can't risk you guys gettin' in trouble because of me!"

The last words were spoken with a desperation Face hadn't heard in a while. The conman nodded understandingly at the pilot.

"Why didn't you ask Richter to stop the medication?" Face said.

"Oh, I did," Murdock replied, looking grim. "But he said that it takes some time before your body and mind are fully adjusted to this stuff, so he told me to keep takin' them until it would be okay."

The pilot looked up at his friend with a piercing stare. "But if there's something I ain't got, it's time for that."

"So you simply stopped taking them?" Face nodded, realizing this probably wasn't the wisest of decisions knowing what impact psychiatric drugs could make on a person.

"Cold turkey," Murdock affirmed with a nod.

A silence fell over the room as the conman mulled over this new revelation. Murdock seldomly opened up about his medication or his anxiety problems. And he was usually very good at hiding them too.

"When?" Face finally asked.

"A little more than a day ago," Murdock said with a sigh, feeling a little better for coming clean about it.

"So all that's happening to you, the headaches and dizziness, the shaking and the sweating; it's all because of the withdrawal," Face summarized. "Did I forget something?"

Examining his friend's expression, Murdock licked his lips nervously feeling very embarrassed. Wiping the sweat from his clammy forehead he could feel his energy waning. He didn't want to lie about this, but the bird had started its menacing whispers again.

"If you tell about me, you'll be in trouble. They'll kick you out for sure, and I'm gonna make it worse. MUCH worse. Is that what you want, Flyboy? Tell him and you'll find out what I'll do to you!"

"Yes, that's it…" Murdock whispered hoarsely while staring at his shoes, trying to hide his horrified expression.

"I really wish you'd told us sooner, Captain!" Hannibal's brisque voice suddenly sounded from behind them.

Jumping at the unexpected arrival of their commander, Face almost tumbled into the toilet while whirling around. How much had the colonel hear?

"Gee, Hannibal, I wish you didn't creep up on us like that!" he cried, grasping his heart in a comical gesture while carefully gauging his COL's mood.

Hannibal, however, didn't look too amused and gave Murdock an interrogative look. His face was stern and unsmiling as his blue eyes pierced Murdock's with a hint of disappointment.

"Ohhhh, you're SO gonna get it now…" A mean sing-song voice started chirping behind the pilot's ear.

Murdock's swallowed hard, feeling his neck-hair rise as he glanced at the bird. (Had it grown again?) Then he looked at the colonel with wild eyes.

"Colonel, I…," but his voice cracked and faded, suddenly lacking the courage to tell the story all over again.

Deceiving his best friend had been a hard thing to do. But deceiving their colonel as well would make the situation much worse. Fatigue and panic were taking over. A whirlwind of emotions raged through his head and sped up with every second of uncomfortable silence that followed. Without his medication, Murdock felt his anxiety (something he was usually in control of) slowly break away from his grasp. He looked from the conman to the colonel with tearful eyes and swallowed hard.  
He'd failed them..., he'd failed his team. He should have told them, but against better judgment, he'd been hoping to hide it until it would go away on its own. He'd wanted to be okay on this mission. No... he NEEDED to be okay. Now he wasn't so sure how much help he was going to be. He'd become the thing he feared the most. He'd become a liability. A useless team member who couldn't be trusted to do anything right.

Sensing the rising look of despair on Murdock's face, Hannibal realized he needed to change his approach quickly before things were going downhill. The silence was dragging and he quickly opened his mouth to speak.

"Captain, let's settle down first. I'm sure we can work things ou... -" he began, still searching for the right words.

But then the stomping sound of heavy feet in the corridor behind him made him stop mid-sentence. And an angry voice boomed through the aircraft.

"YOU SUCKAS PUT ME ON A PLANE!"

This time, all three of them jumped in unison. As Face almost tumbled into the toilet for a second time, Murdock's legs started to feel like jelly. Hannibal spun around to face the muscular sergeant who stood right behind him with flexing muscles.

Oh crap…

"Y'ALL GONNA PAY!" B.A bellowed, sounding both panicky and furious at the same time.

"Errr… Guys?" Hannibal said, taking a step backward while raising his gloved hands protectively in front of his face. "Remind me again which one of you was in charge of strapping our friendly titan to the chair?"

If possible, Murdock's face drained off even more color. He opened his mouth with a weirdly distant look in his eyes.

"..I- I'm afraid that was me ...Col'nel...," he said faintly.

B.A immediately directed his angry glare at him, growling hard while taking a menacing step in his direction.  
It was all the pilot could take. The walls started spinning and Murdock felt his legs giving in. As he slumped onto the floor, and the world started to get dark, he could still hear a nasty whispering voice filling his thoughts with doubts and despair.

"Failure is not falling down. Failure is refusing to get up*. But can you get up? Can you?

Nah...I didn't think so either..."

TBC

* Chinese Proverb.


End file.
